


Echoes

by Nanyoky



Series: Quickbird Revolution [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Coping, Lack of Communication, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Open to Interpretation, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Resurrection, Sequel, Sexual Content, could be poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/pseuds/Nanyoky
Summary: Sequel to "Strangers"Pietro is back after four days.  Wanda is afraid of everything, Sam doesn't know what to do, and it was definitely only four days.





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EssayOfThoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/gifts).



> I was going to leave things as they were in this series, but then Essay suggested a sequel to the ONE angsty fic in it and who am I to say no to more quickbird? I made this a separate sequel instead of adding it as another chapter on Strangers because I like the "mostly canon compliant" nature of that fic. Then it got away from me because I'm just Like That.  
> If you haven't read Strangers, this will all come a bit out of left field, so I don't know why you would want to read this one without having read that one.  
> Also too! I tried something new with my fumbling mixed source translations. If you're on an actual computer, try hovering over the Hungarian dialogue for an intended translation.  
> Enjoy!

The room was silent for days. Sam didn’t know if it was worse or better than if they could hear her. The new AI, FRIDAY, had instructions to inform them if there was any change. But she said nothing. None of the rest of them said much either. Like they didn’t deserve to speak until the woman locked up in one of the compound’s spare rooms under careful observation did first.

Twins. It made sense. How their protectiveness seemed equal—laughable on her end to those who didn't know of their powers, and on his to those that did—not of one elder defending the younger.  And how they had moved and spoken in perfect, fluid tandem, even before her mind could link them supernaturally. The way he watched her back, but she guarded him from the known danger. Sam thought back to who they had been on the street and tried to imagine how they could be anything else.

He didn’t ask how it happened, but Steve told him anyway. Clint tried knocking on the door once, but when he tried the handle, it glowed red and burned his hand. So instead, he sat outside, his legs spread out across the hall.

“Survivor’s guilt.” Sam said it numbly. It was automatic. He heard these stories in group day in and day out. “Pretty normal.”

“Any ideas on how to help either of them?”

Sam didn’t answer. Steve sighed and got up from the kitchen counter, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Get some sleep, Soldier.”

The scream sounded before Sam had to think of how to respond to this. They all rushed to the closed door in time for it to burst open. The room was washed in the red mist, but it was draining back into the young woman curled up in one corner.

“What are you doing?!” her voice was raw and rasping as she screamed at them. “What are you doing to him!?”

“Wanda-“

“Stop this!” She let out a wild cry and curled tighter, falling to her side and writhing in apparent pain. “Whatever it is you do to him- stop!”

“No one’s-“

“Stop! You think you are helping but you are not! Stop hurting us!”

Steve grabbed Sam’s arm. “Go- Helen’s lab. She- she said she… she was going to take care of the body.”

Bile rose up in Sam’s throat as the word “preservation” floated to the front  of his thoughts. He tried not to think about the particulars of what was happening in the lab, and how those things might translate to the young woman’s ability to share the experiences of her twin. He left as Clint stepped toward her with a grim expression and a syringe of sedative.

The medical lab of the compound was dark.

“Dr. Cho?”

He froze when he finally saw her bent over the cradle. The cradle she had been working on. The one Steve said was supposed to be destroyed after all the trouble it ended up causing.

“I know what you will all say-“ she didn’t look up from her work. There was a soft “clink” as she dropped something from her tweezers into a tray of saline. Sam felt sick, even though he couldn’t fully see what she was doing. “But that girl- that woman- she- she gave me- gave me my mind back.”

She sounded feverish. Sam knew she had been injured in Korea and flown back to the states for her team to work on. He didn’t know her—they’d only met briefly at the party, after Sam’s fourth drink—but her shivering voice and tense shoulders were making him nervous.

“Dr. Cho… what are you-“

“I have to- to repay. I could have- could have been mad forever. She gave me my mind back, I can give her… I can give her this.”

Her shaking hands dropped her tweezers on the floor and didn’t pick them up again. Sam watched, his stomach churning, as she paused, then continued her work with her bare fingers.

“She can feel it.” His voice felt grating in his throat- like the words had sharp edges that tore as he forced them out. “She can feel what you’re doing.”

She paused again, but only for a moment longer.

“That must mean I’m succeeding.”

~

Wanda and Pietro and now, just Wanda. Sam felt it was wrong to learn their names this late in the game. Like when TV shows recast a character mid series and all the other actors have to act like nothing has changed, except to use that one character’s name more often than normal to signal to the audience that they aren’t supposed to notice the intruder.

She screamed again when the sedative wore off and this time, didn’t seem to even be able to beg them. Steve was furious with the doctor, but couldn’t seem to be able to bring himself to ask her to stop. Clint was now posted outside the lab door anyway. Sam thought no one wanted to find out what would happen if they tried to get past him.

Almost worse than the screaming was how quickly Sam was able to tune it out like white noise. He busied himself with basic tasks, trying desperately not to think of what was happening on the other side of the building. Phrases about “playing God” kept forcing themselves into his head, but didn’t stick or illicit any real feelings. Like everyone else, he was just waiting.

“It’s not right.” Steve couldn’t seem to decide if he was standing still or pacing the kitchen as Sam scrubbed the inside of the microwave. “Isn’t it?”

Sam didn’t know what to say. “I dunno, man.”

“But… I got Buck long after I lost him.”

Sam almost broke the door off the microwave. The jerk of his arm was involuntary, but he considered completing the action, just to change the subject.

“You did.”

“So saying this is wrong when I wouldn’t have stopped what they did to give me back my best friend is…”

“Would make you kind of an asshole, huh?”

Steve gave him a half-hearted smile that Sam didn’t feel like returning. He was almost thankful when the screaming suddenly stopped dead. They took only half a second to look at one another before starting for the room. The silence was oppressive. Worse, possibly, than the screaming.

“Hey kid-“

Natasha had taken up Clint’s vigil outside the room. Sam and Steve ducked back as she was thrown against the wall by a wave of red mist.

“Wanda-“ Steve didn’t seem to know what to do except stand back and say her name as she ran—half flew—down the hall past them.

Sam didn’t say anything, but followed her, his feet falling numb on the floor. He could hear Steve and Natasha following, still calling out to her. There was a series of crashes and crunches ahead, promising he was still close behind even if he lost sight of their leader.

“This- it’s not right…”

Sam wanted to tell Steve to shut his mouth. There were sobs coming from ahead of them now, in the lab. Wild and wracking. Dr. Cho was leaned up against the doorway, sweaty, ashen, her arms soaked in blood to the elbows. Steve dropped down to check her pulse. Sam went on. He could feel Clint at his side- feel him shaking. But not as hard as Sam was. He could taste blood and realized he was biting his cheek.

He was bleeding. Wanda didn’t seem to notice or care that her brother was bleeding all over her clothes. Sam couldn’t stop thinking that he shouldn’t still be bleeding, having been dead for four days. There was no pressure from a pumping heart to keep the blood from settling. But he was still bleeding. The holes were smaller than they should be, though. Four days in Dr. Cho’s cradle had already done much to not just preserve brain function and stop decay, but heal.

“Tell him to get back in.” The doctor’s voice was faint behind him. It seemed she was trying to claw her way back from her exhaustion. “Back… get him back in the cradle.”

None of them said anything though. Because people who had been dead for four days shouldn’t be able to bleed. Or stand and wrap their arms around their sister while she cried with a broken, wrecked voice from days of screaming. Or hide their face in her hair and shiver like a dog left in the cold while she held them.

~

It was another week before Dr. Cho would let him leave the lab. Wanda wouldn’t leave his side. Clint brought them food, but always came back looking ashen and shaking. Steve was quietly furious, but couldn’t bring himself to lay blame. Natasha only spoke to Clint. The whole left side of her face was bruised from when Wanda had blasted her aside. Banner was gone, Stark and Rhodes were on damage control elsewhere, and the whole place seemed suddenly far too large and far too small all at once.

Sam didn’t know what to do, so he stayed in the training facility. Steve found him again. The way Steve always found him when he wanted something.

“What the hell are we going to do with them?”

He said “we” like it wasn’t really his decision. Like he didn’t know that after all the criticism and debate, they would follow him to whatever disaster he deemed most worthy of their options. Sam had gathered most of the story since the actual battle. That it was the twins’s fault, but it was also Stark’s and Banner’s and all the consequences and intentions were too complicated for anyone to want to think about laying true blame.

“Don’t know if I like the idea of fighting against either of them. And they don’t look the type to come quietly.”

Steve nodded, as if this were actually a valid reason for there to be no further consequences for the twins’ transgressions. Or like he was tired enough to take any excuse he could get to just be done with the whole affair and move on.

“None of our hands are clean,” he said it vaguely, like it was more a formality to say it out loud than anything. “We can be a fresh start for them. Like Nat. Like all of us.”

“We would like to stay.”

Both of them jumped at Wanda’s voice and turned.

“Hey, you two. Helen give you the all clear, or is this a prison break?”

Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, as it was clear his light tone wasn’t having the intended effect. The twins stood staring at him and he tried to smile back. Sam couldn’t look at any of them, and none of them were looking at him anyway. Steve cleared his throat and tried again.

“You’re welcome to. Stay, I mean. But if you’re going to fight with the team, you will be expected to train with the team.”

They nodded, but before they could say anything else, there was another voice.

“Hey- Kid-“

Clint’s face was hard to read and his posture stiff. They all watched while he clenched his fist, then touched the invisible wound in his side.

“You’re a dumb couple of punks, you know that?”

Natasha had followed him and had an even more grim expression. Sam watched them all, wondering if he would do anything should a fight start. Clint finally went on.

“So dumb that my kids wouldn’t have a dad anymore if you were any smarter.” His expression didn’t change as he stared at Pietro. “So I’m gunna hug you now and you’re gunna let me.”

It was like in a second, the tension had evaporated as Pietro made a noise of disgust and tried to turn away. His sister tugged on his arm, trying not to smile as Clint did what he threatened, pounding a fist against his back while Pietro stood stiff, his arms trapped at his sides.

“Is it finished now? Does this always take so long?”

Clint relented, but shook a finger at him. “And you’re gunna meet my family and let them thank you too.”

“Shit.”

Steve snorted and clapped Pietro on the back. “And watch your fuckin language around the kids, huh?”

~

Everything about the next week felt fake- like a dream that was just close enough to reality to confuse you for a moment on waking, but was obviously not a memory the moment you pissed and started your coffee. But no matter how awake he felt, things didn’t suddenly make sense or change.

They were formally introduced before they started training. Sam tried to read them as Steve explained to the team.

“I know things have been dicey the past couple weeks, but finally thought we should take a minute to say, this is Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. They’re going to be joining the roster, unless anyone’s got any objections.”

The two of them kept their eyes downcast while he said this, and Sam found he didn’t actually want to know the extent of their involvement with the conflict. When no one said anything, Steve went on.

“Didn’t think so. Anyway, this is the current team, you two-“

They shuffled their way down the line, looking torn between their aloof, disinterested nature and the knowledge that there was likely much lingering animosity towards them coming from the people whose hands they were now shaking. And that it was entirely deserved.

“Sam Wilson.” Wanda was the first to shake his hand. She met his gaze with a level stare, and made no indication that they had ever met before. She let go and Sam set his teeth.

“Sam?” There was a joke in his clear eyes, even if his expression stayed straight.

“Yeah.” A little twinge of annoyance at that look tugged at his mouth as they shook hands, but he kept his expression equally neutral.

“Pietro…” Wanda linked an arm in her brother’s and, with only the faintest of warning looks, dragged him further down the line.

The next week, they kept to themselves outside of training. Both barely looked at Sam and he wasn’t sure if he wanted them to. The longer it went on, the more certain he was. They were not to interact. And if they did, they would not acknowledge Sam’s time in Sokovia five years ago.

He returned to his rooms after another microwaved meal and argument with Natasha over whether he should be focusing on legs or arms when it came to weights. He hadn’t sold his house in DC yet. He kept meaning to get the process moving, but it never felt like a good time. He needed to move some of his things to his room at the facility so he would feel more at home. He needed to call his mother.

There was a thunderous knock on the door. Sam sat up and crossed the room slowly, half afraid of what he was going to find. He'd barely opened the door when Pietro shoved his way inside and kissed him. His hands were on Sam's jacket, shaking as they pulled him closer. Sam didn't respond for a moment, completely unable to think straight. It wasn’t a good kiss in the same way that it hadn’t been a good kiss that first night in Sokovia. But the recognition of dry lips and shaking hands and clacking teeth was at once unexpected and far too familiar. At last, he came to himself enough to push Pietro back.

"What-"

"It was real, right? It really happened. I remember-" his voice was shaking just as hard as his hands. "It- this _happened_... Right?"

Sam kept him at arm's length for a breath, trying to decipher his babbling.

"Hey- calm down, alright? What's going on?"

Pietro still gripped his jacket and was breathing hard, but he swallowed before starting this time.

"Wanda- she- she doesn't know what to do. She always knows what to do. And now-" he swallowed again and shook his head, eyes squeezed tight. "She- she says it was four days. She doesn't know what to do. She's scared of everything. And she keeps saying I was gone _four days_."

Sam slowly realized what he was saying, and what he was doing there.

"Wanda's scared and unsure because she doesn't want to lose you again." His voice didn’t sound like his own. He felt like someone else was saying what he _should_ say while his body was trying to lean in closer again.

"But -"

"And _this_ happened." He grabbed Pietro's wrists, trying to connect the “should” of his words with the rest of him. He should slow things down, should suggest they save this conversation for another day. Should stop this. "You're not losing it, alright? You remember your life just fine. You're okay and-" he tried to catch his eyes but Pietro was staring somewhere near his collarbone. "You... it wasn't four days for you, was it?"

Pietro swallowed again and shook his head. He didn't stop. He just closed his eyes and leaned in closer until their foreheads almost touched.

Sam tried to keep control of the situation, keep his head. Because Pietro was not in control. He needed to come down off whatever he was dealing with before they even thought about starting anything. But it only took Pietro’s lips catching his once before Sam knew he was going to regret all of this.

There should have been scars. There should have, but there wasn't. Running his hands over Pietro's skin as they scrambled at one another’s clothes, Sam had the mad intrusive urge to dig his nails in to find the holes and open them up again. He couldn't fathom how Pietro's entire body was different from the stranger of years ago in every way but the one that mattered. There should be proof, physical evidence, when a man died.

Pietro fell asleep not long after and Sam didn't know what to do. All the time in Sokovia, they had never slept in the same bed. It had always been quick stolen moments- a few hours at the most. This was unfamiliar territory.

Sam dressed and left the room. He wandered down the hall, thinking vaguely that he might make something to eat. But he was not alone.

He turned slowly and didn't need to ask to realize that Wanda knew who he had left in his bed.

"Are you gunna beat me up?"

He didn't have much hope that the joke would prove he wasn't really afraid of her. He would be an idiot not to be afraid of her after what he had seen. She stared back like she actually needed to consider the question.

"No," she finally answered. "He can make his own choices. And you are a... decent enough man, Sam Wilson."

Sam almost snorted at her tone. She said it like it was a proven fact. like there was a calculable scale he fell on and "decent enough" was a passible rating for someone who touched her brother.

"Thanks." When she did not say anything else, he searched around for something. "I know-"

She interrupted almost instantly, though she had shown no signs of getting ready to speak before he opened his mouth. Sam wondered if it was some kind of power trip, and decided it probably was.

"Yes? You know? What is it you know?"

Almost definitely a power trip. He chose his words carefully.

"That... I don't know much. But life's been hard for the two of you. "

"And you think you will make his better?" Her expression was hard to read, but he couldn’t miss the curl of red behind her eyes.

"I- I'm gunna do my damnedest not to make it worse."

"And of you find you have? If you decide you are not good for him? Or _I_ decide?"

Sam swallowed. She said this last like it was the most likely scenario.

"Then I'll end whatever it is we're doin. I'll-" he thought a moment. "I'll say something about you. Something ugly and mean he wouldn't bother even _trying_ to forgive."

She considered him a moment and Sam was sure she was looking at his mind more than his face. But at last she gave a business-like nod, then, to his surprise, smiled.

"Decent. Possibly even good."

~

Natasha volunteered to take lead on training him, to almost everyone's surprise. Sam watched them carefully. She wouldn't let him use his speed and made him repeat whenever he slipped.

"Why?" Pietro spat at her and Steve landed a blow on Sam's thigh while he tried to listen and block at the same time. "Why bother?"

"Because no one knows anything about your powers so there is a very real possibility you may lose them one day. And I don't want to end up on the field with someone who's only real skills come from bar fights."

_" Kapd be."_

"Watch your mouth or I'll swell it shut."

He swore as she landed a blow on his lower lip, splitting it open. After the morning session, he stormed out without a word and Wanda rolled her eyes.

"It's embarrassing how much he worships her."

Sam shook his head and followed the rest of the team to the locker room. Pietro wasn’t there and he forgot about the day’s confrontations as he showered.

"So how long have you and the dead kid been fucking?"

Sam really wished Natasha had picked a different time for this conversation. One where he was wearing clothes and not still wet from the shower.

"I don't -"

"Skip it.” She wrapped a still-swollen ankle on one of the locker room’s benches. “You don't know what I'm talking about, so I explain. That his sudden onset of tell-tale bruising patterns that he didn’t get in training would have been enough, but you two were weird from day one so I invaded your privacy to prove my hunch and it paid off because you spent two months in that city we destroyed a month ago back when you were active duty." She raised an eyebrow. "So you knew each other then, right? Is that when it started?"

Sam swallowed and nodded. "You gunna tell Steve?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Cuz it's a bad idea. And it's gunna end worse."

She let out a soft hum and shrugged. “I don’t know. He seems more focused in training when you two happen to be late to breakfast oh so casually just staggered enough that no one guesses that you came out of the same room, so…” Another shrug. “But don’t let the pretty face fool you. Rogers is smarter than he looks.”

~

Wanda did not always read people, Sam found. Whether it was out of a desire to respect privacy, or something else, he didn't know. But she didn't always know everything and it was a small comfort.

Pietro hit Sam in his sleep one night when nightmares gripped him and Sam had tried to wake him up. When they came down to breakfast, Wanda frowned at Sam's lip before addressing her twin.

_ "Mit mondott neked?" _

She thought this was the end. That Sam had made good on his promise.

"Oh yeah - so he gives me a fat lip and you ask what _I_ did to deserve it? Typical."

She smiled at this and Sam was surprised to realize she was relieved. He had thought that, though she did not actively _dislike_ him, there would be no love lost when he inevitably left her brother's life. But she laughed when Pietro explained in their language, clearly trying to sound offhand and dismissive. She sat between them at the counter as they ate, her arm brushing comfortably against Sam’s as she reached for the sugar for her tea.

~

Steve said they needed to learn to function on the field without one another. They only agreed when Natasha pointed out that in the event one of them was captured or incapacitated in action, the other would need the skills and experience to help the needy party. They still were unhappy when Steve sent Natasha and Pietro out on a live field test alone.

Sam found Wanda in the living area later, sitting on the couch and changing the television channel with a twitch of her ring finger every half minute.

"Can't sleep?"

"He is afraid." She said it more dully than he would have expected such a statement coming from her. She looked up at his raised eyebrows and sighed. "Not immediate danger. But he is... anxious."

"What else is new?"

She gave him a brief tight smile. Since she didn't seem to mind the company, Sam rounded the couch and sat next to her.

"So you can... tell how someone is feeling, even this far away?"

She shook her head. "Just him. It... it is not so different from before. Always thinking of one another. But now the echo is stronger. We can feel strong moments from one another with certainty now. Fear, laughter, pain."

Sam couldn't help but drop his eyes to a patch of raw, irritated skin peaking out from the neck of her dress. They looked like scratches from an animal - or perhaps an itching rash. He didn't know if she read his mind, or saw the direction of his gaze and guessed.

"Yes. Pain in particular is very easy to feel."

She considered him a moment and Sam had the distinct feeling that he was being looked at under a microscope. After a few beats, Wanda leaned over, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. He was too surprised to react, but eventually settled his arm around her. Her hair smelled warm and familiar, but he couldn’t place the scent.

"Cinnamon oil."

"Hey- stay outta there."

"Sorry."

It was alright, sitting like that. Wanda seemed so comfortable that he forgot to feel uncomfortable with the new level of closeness between them. He found himself unconsciously playing with the ends of her hair as they watched one of the worse Bond films on a movie marathon channel. He'd almost fallen asleep when Wanda sighed and sat upright.

"They will be back now. Thank you."

She kissed him and Sam was too surprised to respond. By the time he had processed the gesture, she was already down the hall to the entrance. He followed, not sure he should until he met Steve in the hall.

"Nat said they just pulled in. She text you too?"

"Uhh- no. Wanda said..."

It didn't seem to matter that he trailed off. Steve seemed to understand.

"Were you that worried we wouldn't make it back?"

Pietro was already occupied with embracing Wanda and muttering to her in a low voice, but Natasha raised her eyebrows at Steve and Sam as they came to meet her.

"Thought you two might have eloped." Steve’s eyes raked over them both, but seeing no signs of injuries, relaxed.

Natasha gave Pietro an exaggerated once over before humming, unimpressed. "Pass."

Pietro made a face at her, but it clearly didn’t have the bite it might have, once. He caught Sam's eye. Sam cleared his throat and wished Steve goodnight before returning to his room and leaving the door unlocked. It opened and shut in less than a second while he took off his shoes.

"Come on-" Pietro’s voice was hoarse and breathless already as he crossed and started immediately on Sam's belt. "Please- just-"

"Everything go okay?" Sam didn't have the self-control to stop him, but he took Pietro's wrists to slow him down. It was a common enough response between them.

"Fine." But his voice was tight and his touch feverish like the first time he came to Sam's room.

"What happened?"

Pietro kissed him and grabbed him through his jeans, but the distraction was so obvious it was almost pitiful. Sam gripped his wrists again and forced them down to his sides.

"Tell me."

His lip curled like he wanted to start a fight, but the longer Sam held his gaze, the more tension seeped out of his shoulders, his hands, the set of his teeth. He twisted his hands free and kissed him, deeper and less hurried.

"It was fine. Natasha is fine. I am fine. Wanda is fine. She worried, but we stay..." at this, he struggled a moment, looking anywhere but at Sam’s face. "We can feel one another, always."

"She told me." Sam helped him with his shirt, in recognition of the effort he was putting in. He tried not to think about what any other counselor would say about him using sex as some kind of reward for personal sharing. "So everyone's fine. But you're still wired. That just from adrenaline?"

Pietro nodded, but he was looking firmly at Sam's mouth.

"Yes. That. I'm just-"

Sam pushed him until he fell into the bed and started on his own belt.

"But you’re shaking. All over." He took Pietro’s wrists again and pressed them to the mattress. Pietro glared, but relaxed when Sam ducked in to kiss him. "So what happened?"

"Can't you just-"

"I'm not dropping it."

But he did keep steadily working at their clothes and kissing him. At last, Pietro took a few breaths through his nose.

"There was gunfire -" He hissed when Sam's teeth scraped his hip. "Just- that is all. We were safe. Calm. But I think... I think I was too calm. I thought... 'I could just lift my head. Above cover and... go back. Then it would all be the same. For Wanda. For everyone. It would be like I never...’"

Sam's heart was in his throat. It was like he had pulled the nervous energy into himself now. Finished with both their clothes, he returned to Pietro's mouth.

"You better not do anything stupid or I'm coming after you and dragging you back myself."

Pietro laughed, harder and longer than he should have. His laughter was both tight and wild. Sam probably should have taken it as a sign that they should stop, but the contagious anxiety had taken him over and Pietro was biting his lip and shoulder and muttering in his own language in a way that felt far too much like before for him to keep his head.

They were hurried and frantic again, and as much as it felt like this _shouldn’t_ help, Pietro stopped shaking and fidgeting once they had both come. But is breath hitched when Sam touched a certain spot on his chest. Sam wasn’t sure he was supposed to notice, but unconsciously, his hand kept returning to the spots that elicited this response, even after they were catching their breath. He lifted his hand after the latest catch in rhythm, but Pietro grabbed his wrist and put it back.

"I can still feel them."

Sam didn't stop his hand’s track over his ribs and said nothing. They were rarely like this- never like this. Sleeping in the same bed had been new, but they usually didn’t say or do much after they had finished. Not until morning. But a genuine desire to help that also masked a morbid curiosity kept him from feeling any apprehension at this new step to their nights together.

"It's like- the addicts on the street, you know? Insects under their skin that don't exist. I- I know Dr. Cho dug them out. She has them in a bottle.” Pietro let out a brief huff of a laugh that didn’t sound half as careless as he clearly meant it to. “She showed me and asked if I wanted them. But I... they're still there. I know they are in a bottle in Dr. Cho's lab, but they're also still there inside me. Wanda-" he swallowed at this and Sam waited. "Wanda can feel them too. She felt them hit and she felt death. And now she wakes herself up, scratching until she bleeds, trying to get them out. She knows they're not there anymore too but- but she wants them out. Of both of us. I think…” he paused for far too long for Sam’s liking. “I think they are killing us."

Sam didn't think he'd ever heard Pietro speak so much at once. He let him guide his hand to where each bullet had hit and Sam pressed down, trying to feel the place where the organs and muscles underneath had been knit back together. This felt significant. Like Sam wasn't supposed to know. Like Wanda would be angry next time he saw her. Like she might tell him she had finally decided not to allow him to hurt Pietro any more.

"Nothing's killing you. Either of you. Promise."

"You're wrong." It wasn't an argument, but a statement. Casual and light, like Sam had said he thought it had rained the night before when it hadn't. "We are dying. Faster than anyone."

Sam waited, his hand still on the last phantom bullet wound.

"How long was it? For you?"

Pietro hooked his fingers in his dog tags and pulled him down for a kiss instead of answering. Sam didn't resist. Most of him didn't want to know anyway.

~

Wanda’s trip out with Clint was, as Sam should have expected, almost the same, but in reverse. They were all in the living space hours after the two left. Rhodey was trying to watch the news, but between Steve trying to explain the finer points of pancake flipping to the Vision in the kitchen and Pietro bouncing a tennis ball against further and further surfaces and crunching his way through a bag of hard candies, no one could have concentrated on current events. At last, Natasha got up and caught the ball as it ricocheted back from the corner to Pietro’s hand and dropped it down the garbage chute in the hall on her way to her bedroom. Pietro scowled at her back, then picked up a pen to start tapping against the side table next to him.  
“ _Pietro_.”

He looked about to snap something at Rhodey in response, then thought better of it. He got to his feet and dropped his jacket onto the coffee table as he passed.

“Sam. Spar with me.”

He was gone before Sam could argue. He sighed and got to his feet.

“I’ll… talk him down,” he offered as a lame excuse to the room at large.

Steve was watching him with a very odd expression on his face.

“I gotta clean anything other than sweat, blood and tears off those mats, I’m not gunna be happy with either one of ya.”

Sam was too shocked to respond. Steve’s voice had been quiet, but he couldn’t mistake what he heard. When he only stared, Steve tapped his temple with one finger.

“I’m smarter than I look, Wilson.”

Sam left before he could think too hard about what had given him away or how long Steve had known. When he got to the training facility, Pietro wasted no time in hitting him in the jaw hard enough that Sam was sure at least one tooth had cracked. By the time he could pay him back for it, they were already on the ground, grappling to get a grip on one another. They fucked on the mats until Pietro could actually lie still for more than a second at a time.

“She’s fine.” Sam felt like they should get their clothes back on, but needed to catch his breath. “We all know Wanda’s tougher than you.”

Pietro actually laughed as he got up and gathered his clothes. “Thanks.”

Sam stayed where he was and watched him dress, trying to remember if he’d ever heard Pietro thank anyone for anything before.

She came back with a twisted ankle that Clint had done an excellent job of field splinting. Pietro still gave the older man a frigid cold shoulder for allowing it to happen, even as Wanda rolled her eyes and explained that it had been stupid, really. Sam stayed just long enough to check in with Clint and ask if Wanda wanted anything.

Back in his room, he tried not to feel like his space felt too quiet and still. After he showered, he returned to the main room to find a lump under his covers.

“Thought you would have been with…” he trailed off on lifting the sheet and finding a much smaller body than he expected.

Wanda blinked an eye open, then settled back into his pillows. “Put that back or join me. It is cold in here.”

“Wanda- what-“

“I’m _sleeping_. Or _trying_ to.”

As it seemed she was not about to explain herself, Sam hesitated for only one exasperated moment before crawling in next to her. The moment he was settled, she moved closer to wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. Sam didn’t have the energy to consider whether or not he should have a problem with this.  
“Won’t your brother-“

“He is asleep. He needs it.” She yawned and settled herself in more completely. “You wore him out, I think.”

Sam grimaced but didn’t say that he definitely didn’t want to be talking about this with her. She was soft and warm against him in a way that made him feel more tired than he should. Made him feel like it wasn’t uncomfortable for her to comment on his sex life with her brother. Even the thought that she could often feel what her twin did didn’t seem all that unusual or important when the spicy smell of the oil in her hair was making him feel tired and warm.

“I’m afraid for him.” Her voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear her. “Sam… I’m so, so afraid…”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to this for a few minutes.

“What-“ he had to clear his throat before going on. “What are you so scared of?”

She answered more quickly and honestly than he ever would have expected. Sam couldn’t help but compare this conversation to how it would proceed with her twin. Longer, more tangled and frustrating.

“I cannot lose him again. And he cannot go back.”

“Where?”

“He can’t. I won’t let it happen.”

Sam hadn’t really expected an answer anyway. There was a resolution in her voice he knew should scare him. But since he didn’t know what to say, he kissed her hair.

Later in the week, he caught her words to her brother.

_ “Sam mond valami szörnyűséget- ne aggódj emiatt.” _

~

"Don't ask him."

The conscious thought hadn't even formed yet, but Sam felt guilty anyway for even knowing what Wanda meant.

"Ask him what?"

She glared at him like she used to at the beginning while he made the two of them omelets. It was too early for either of them to be up, but Sam hadn't been able to sleep and had found her watching tv, fresh red scratches on her chest just visible over the neck of the loose cotton shirt she had gone to bed in. Wanda only laughed when Sam asked for it back, along with the flannel pants he slept in.

"Do not ask." She offered no further explanation. "You know you should not ask."

He put her serving on a plate and passed it over the counter. She watched him and didn't start eating until he responded.

"I won't. Come on, you know I wouldn't."

Wanda only gave him a steady, grave look.

But in the end, he didn't have to ask. The next nightmare that woke Pietro had him thrashing and clawing at Sam's arms when he tried to wake him and babbling in what sounded like several different languages at once.

"Shit..." he muttered when he finally came to himself enough to see his short, but ragged nails had drawn blood on Sam's forearms. "Shit..."

He never apologized when he hit Sam or hurt him like this. Just laid back with an arm slung over his eyes, muttering "shit... fuck..." to the ceiling while he caught his breath.

"You alright?"

Sam didn't expect an answer- he never got one. If he pressed, there would be sex, but it was starting to make him feel guilty, so he'd stopped pressing. Pietro breathed for another few moments, then let his arm fall.

"How long was it?"

Sam responded immediately. Sometimes Pietro needed this too. The repetition. Reassurance.

"Four days. Afternoon of the 8th to night of the 12th."

"No." He swallowed and breathed, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. "After... when we met, how long had it been?"

Sam let himself lie back down because he didn't want to look at him while they talked about this.

"I don't know what you're-"

"How long had it been since you lost Riley?"

Sam's gut clenched and he tried to summon up the energy to be angry with Wanda. It had to have been her. He didn't like to think about how easy it was for her to step into his mind. How easy it was for her to see things and know things he didn’t choose to tell.

"I call out for my sister at night, I know. But you say "Riley" when you dream."

Sam hadn't wanted to be mad at Wanda anyway and there was relief in this information, more than anything else.

"He's the man in your wallet, yeah?"

Sam nodded, then cleared his throat before making himself speak. "'bout - 'bout a month."

"You're better now than you were then. I don't think I could get Now You to fuck around in alleys with Then Me."

Sam tried to decide if Pietro meant this to sound as bitter as it did. He didn't think he did. But it still felt like Sam should be uncomfortable with him talking that way.

"I don't know if- if everyone goes to the same place." There was a tremor in Pietro’s voice, but a hallow note too. "That is what you want to know. Wanda told you not to ask but-"

"I wasn't going to."

"But you still wanted to know." Pietro was speaking very fast now and sat up, elbows on his knees. He wouldn't look at him and Sam couldn't help thinking he should have caught his breath by now. "You weren't going to ask the _one_ person who might have some idea, but you wanted to, of _course_ you did."

"Doesn't matter what I want or thought about or-"

"Why not?" Sam couldn't understand why he sounded angry. He sat up and tried to get a look at Pietro's expression in the dim light, but he was staring at the end of the bed like there was something dangerous there, hiding just out of sight. "Why doesn't it matter what you want, Sam?"

Sam didn't know what to say to this. Not as the person he was here in the dark with scratches on his arms and marks from his teeth on the throat and hips of the person next to him. So he cleared his throat and said what the person who led a group at the D.C. VA would.

"Because I know you're not ready to talk about it. And I don't want to put you through that."

"Why not?"

"Cuz it's..." this, he actually had to think about. He wasn't used to having to explain this part, even in group. "Cuz you've been through enough."

Pietro actually snorted. His usual, careless, arrogant sound whenever someone other than Wanda tried to tell him what to do.

"You don't know anything."

"Yeah, not a damn thing."

He didn't mean for it to sound just as scathing and bitter as Pietro's voice was, but it did. At last, he looked at Sam, his clear, ghostly eyes cutting through the dark.

"I don't know anything about the places- if there is more than one, or- a better one. I don't know who's rules it follows. I don't know where Riley or our parents ended up. I just know where I was and-"

His voice tightened until it broke and he dropped his head, pressing his eyes to his knees and pulling his legs to his chest. All the confusion and frustration drained out of Sam at once. He moved closer at last, digging his fingers into Pietro's hair to rub circles in his scalp and then tug softly.

"Hey... hey- come on-" it was all he could think of to say. "Come on..."

It worked, in any case, and soon Pietro's breathing had calmed and he was leaning into Sam's touch.

"It doesn't matter... I know it doesn't. It's done with now. But one day I'll… and Wanda- we’ll have to-" He cut himself off, but he didn't need to finish this particular thought. “Why? Why doesn’t it matter what you want?”

The grit teeth anger was back with the question. Sam kissed him rather than respond, hoping Pietro didn’t really want an answer.


End file.
